A Ghost in Dimmsdale
by Quacked Lurker
Summary: Timmy Turner and magical guardians, meet various ghosts from Amity Park. A series of unrelated one shots in one location for easy reading. Chapter 15 - bit of randomness featuring Wulf.
1. Crocker and Skulker!

**Disclaimer:** This isn't mine at all--at least, not the characters. They belong to Butch Hartman. Anyway, enjoy this oneshot and review please.

The place is Dimmsdale and it is after school when a thin, tall man in black pants and a white shirt steps into the street. He looks different from the normal human population with ears on the bottom of his head, near the neck. The adult is also severly hunchedbacked and is armed with. . . .  
a butterfly net?

Regardless, the male human is inently watching a short, ten year old boy walk past him. Quickly he swishes the net and nabbs a pink notebook and a green math book--both with wide eyes. The boy cries out "NO, Cosmo, Wanda!" to which this mean human laughs.

"FARIES DO EXIST" Denzel Crocker does an impossible breakdance with lands him on his head before returning him to the present mentally. "Sorry, Timmy Turner, but I need these 'godparents' to prove to my colleges that faires and other magical creatures are infact living among us." He starts to run off but turns around and said, "Before I forget, here's your F of the day."

"Come back!" Passing strangers notice a short boy in a pink beret chase after an adult male. Most give this no second thought as the boy with the hat is gaining on the adult who is constantly running from an aging mob. Why the crowd is always mobbing Mr. Crocker, no one knows. It is just something that happens.

Crocker manages to elude the short, stout kid long enough to run into an empty parking lot. "Good. I've lost the boy. Time to take you home so I can prove my obsession isn't a delusion" he says to the miscolored notebook and textbook with eyes. Whistling, he calmly walks towards the broken wooden fence, not bothering to look infront of him as he is too busy keeping an eye behind him.

That turns out to be a mistake. Before Denzel Crocker can take seven steps he rams into a tall, imobile black-silver creature with green flaming hair. "Well, what do we have here? A human morsel not worthy of my time." The mechanical creature grabbs the human by his shirt and picks him up, lifting Mr. Crocker off the cracked pavement. A wooden clatter startles the imposing stranger who looks at the butterfly net and then back at his prey. "YOU! I thought we removed you from Amity Park! Say your prayers."

A stunned Timmy Turner comes up in time to hear that last sentense and watches in astonishment as his "F"ailing teacher is thrown into the air and hit by several green darts and pink lights. Before the screaming Crocker can land, the adult in black-and-grey reveals stubby wings connected to his back and engages engines, chasing Crocker through the air.

Before the helpful stranger can recover the dropped net, Timmy comes in and throws the device away and carefully picks up his pink and green books. "Cosmo, Wanda, are you guys okay?"

"Sure we are, kid." Abruptly the books dissappear and two floating faires appear at eyelevel.

Before futher chitchat can be exchanged, Crocker races back towards Timmy and screams "Ghosts! I hate Ghosts! Leave me alone! Stop it I tell you!"

"Not in this lifetime." The other adult wizzes by on his enorumous engine. "No one escapes from Skulker, the Ghost Zone's Greatest Hunter! And you are my prey."

While Crocker screams "Help ME!" Timmy calmly asks his fairy godparents, "Do you think Crocker met this Skulker while Mrs. Sunshine taught fourth and fifth grade a couple of weeks ago?"

"Certainly not, Timmy!" cries out the female fairy in the yellow shirt. "Wait, where did you send Crocker, Cosmo?"

"I don't know," admits the male fairy in the white shirt. "Timmy didn't care if the mean teacher was in an alternate dimension, so--"

"You zapped Mr. Crocker into another reality?" asks the astonished female. She then sighs. "Should have known."

Meanwhile he human boy has also been talking. "Cool! I always wondered if there was another place I could visit besides Jimmy's place when I get board in the summer." He then starts walking towards home, having lost all interst in wondering what will happen to his teacher.


	2. Evil  Which is worse?

**Disclaimer:** This isn't mine at all--at least, not the characters. They belong to Butch Hartman. ** This is another one shot--not a continuation of the first "chapter"**

Vicky the vicious grinned mischeviously as she waved goodbye to the Turner parents. As soon as they were out of sight, the malicious teenage babysitter turned towards her charge and shoves bathroom cleaning supplies into his arms before screaming "CLEAN THE HOUSE!"

Icky Vicky skipped into the living room and popped in a Chip SkyLark CD. She absolutly loved his songs--especially the one dedicated to her. Good thing none of the adults knew it was her personality. They were so trusting and easy to fool.

While the miserable scrawny kid scrubbed the floors and walls, the tall red-haired teenager cleaned out the refrigerator--everything that she didn't eat, she threw around the kitchen and ground into the floor. This was the life: making money while doing absolutly nothing to help others out.

Upstairs, Cosmo stopped pretending to be a green bucket and revealed his fairy self to the god child. "You okay, Timmy?"

"Absolutly not." growled out the bucktoothed kid as he scrambled around to make sure the room was spick-span clean. "I wish we had something to distract or punish Viky with."

Wanda showed up. "ARe you sure that's wise, sport? It's a very open-ended wish--who knows what kind of horrers could be unleased with something that vague?"

"Hey, nothing can be worse than Vicky. Come on, give me something to work with."

"Okay. On three. One, Two, Three." Both fairies raised their wants and the stars shimmered for several seconds.

Back downstairs, Vicky moved on to the living room and plopped into the sofa, turning the television on. Before she chanel surfed to find something besides meaningless cartoons, her attention was distracted by a glowing box. "Hey, what's this?"

The box was green and blue. It had an ominous skull on it and the lock looked like the letter P. "I can't see why the Turners bought this piece of junk." She ran out to the tool shed and grabbed a sledge hammer. "Let's see what's inside."

Within five hits the hammer was shattered while the box remained unharmed. "What?" Courious, she opened the box and found a pink fluffy unicorn fly out. "Oh, how cute."

She carefully and gently manuvered her hand below the floating, living toy. Once the object was in her hand, Vicky gleefully pounded the item into the walls and picked up her-ever-present-flamethrower. Before she could do anything else, she screamed in fright and pain as the small, cute little thing morphed into a huge, ugly blue-flame throwing animal.

In horrer, Vicky ran screaming from the anti-unicorn which remained on her tail, getting serveral good hits on her backside.

Meanwhile, Timmy ran downstairs and watched the proceddings. "Oh, man, that's good." He laughed. "I wonder what else is in that box."

Wanda shouted, "NO" just as Timmy opened the box agian and dropped the unwanted item as bats, snakes, and frogs streamed out of the seemingly bottomless container of "doom." As the house continued filling up, Cosmo chuckled while his wife of uncounted years glared at him. "You brought him Pandora's Box? How crazy are you?"

"Cheer up, Wanda. It could be worse." Cosmo winked at the audience, while Timmy abandoned the house and his magical protectors.


	3. Two genies

**Disclaimer:** _The Fairly Odd Parents_ and _Danny Phantom_ are both creations of Butch Hartman's imagination. I own nothing mentioned—except maybe the plot.

Third Oneshot: ENJOY your Thanksgiving weekend!

Desiree, the wishing ghost of Amity Park, flew invisibly over Dimmsdale. "I wish I didn't grant every wish I hear."

"I can help with that."

"Who's there?" asked the green skinned lady with flowing black hair.

"The name's Norm. Norm the Genie. I can grant up to three wishes if you will rub this magical lamp." The abandoned green lava lamp attracted Desiree's attention and she almost jumped out of her skin when a face appeared inside the lamp.

"Sorry, but no. I'm a genie and the first rule of wish granting is to modify the results towards the individual advantage."

"That's why I hate Lawyers. They don't leave any loopholes."

"Too true. Since I can't free you and you can't help me, we need a third party."

Norm jumped up and down enthusiastically. Well, the lamp started moving up and down from the forces applied from within. "I know just the kid. He's got fairly godparents, so he's used to making wishes. The only problem is intercepting them before they are fulfilled."

"Leave that to me." Desiree picks up the lamp and turns both it and her invisible as she searches for the boy described by Norm.

Turner skipped along the sidewalk after school. "Man, I am so glad Crocker wasn't teaching today. I actually got a D on my homework this time."

"Plus Francies wasn't around either. I wonder what's up with that" the pink female fairy wonders out loud.

The green fairy floating backwards cheerfully says "Come on Wanda, does it matter? I mean it must have been a wish we granted."

Timmy interrupts. "Um, guys isn't there something in Da' Rule book that keeps me from wishing meanies away? Because I remember something stopping me from getting rid of Crocker and the bully ages ago." He spies something and rushes forward before either Wanda or Cosmo can answerer the intelligent question. "Hey! It's a magical lamp."

Wanda gasps and flies to her godson trying to stop him from rubbing the lamp while a ground squirrel distracts Cosmo. "No! Don't."

Too late. The lamp has been rubbed and out pops. . . a green skinned female?

"Hey! I thought this is Norm's lamp of solitude!"

"It is, but he's been granted a reprieve for good behavior. I am his replacement. Make a wish and it will come true." While speaking, she emits a sparking green/pink cloud into Timmy's face.

"Okay, I wish I Vicky couldn't baby-sit me anymore."

"Your wish is my command." As Desiree waves her hands, Timmy turns into a dog.

"Hey! What gives?" barks the canine as he tries biting the tail of this genie.

Norm pops out behind and regards the animal. "I must say, that's an improvement. Okay, my turn." His arms wave and a pile of dog biscuits appear and distract Timmy the pup.

While the two genies shake hands for a job well done, they find themselves trapped by a butterfly net.

"Yes! Fairy God parents exist!" exclaims an excited Crocker as he jumps out from the bushes he'd been lying in wait since school begin. "Now to show my proof to the university that destroyed my life." He jumps up and down while running towards his truck.

Wanda and Cosmo pop into visibility soon after Crocker and his trapped genies drive off. Wanda uses her wand magic to turn Timmy back into his human self while Cosmo gathers the remaining dog biscuits and stuffs them in his empty head. "Shall we go home, sport?"

Shaken, Timmy nods. "Yes, right now I'm glad I have an actual family and fairies who grant my wishes. Thanks. Oh, and Wanda, could you poof me a Turkey? It is thanksgiving and after dancing my folks will want a full holiday meal."

-------------------------------------end------------------------

Got suggestions for another oneshot? Want to see something in particular? Then review me with your requests. Thank you and have a wonderful Thanksgiving weekend.

1-June 22, 20072-August 14, 20073-November 22, 2007


	4. In Remembrance!

Sighs

**Disclaimer: **No, not Butch Hartman. Just a drabble in remembrance.

Timmy Turner sighed. The ten-year-old boy sat outside eating his lunch by his lonesome self. "Why did the school have a moment of silence?" he asked his green paper bag and pink plastic container.

The two odd colored items disappeared and then reappeared as Cosmo and Wanda, two Fairygod parents. "It's September 11th. Seven years ago the Twin Towers had airplanes flown into them and the Pentagon was attacked."

Timmy Turner stood up on his seat, unnoticed by the other school kids. "Then I wish I could travel back in time to stop this tragedy."

Cosmo, waved his wand in a circle. "You got it, sir."

With a poof, the kid and the floating figures disappeared.

September 11, 2001 witnessed their arrival. It wasn't Timmy Turner who stood on the nose of the plane. It was Crimson Chin's small sidekick. The boy in a red rubber suit looked the pilot in the eye and took a deep breath in preparation to fight for the survival of the passengers and everyone else—as long as his interest held.

Wanda took the shape of a bird, while a green Squirrel stood on the control counsel inside the plane. The two were observers until their charge made a wish. Before Timmy could open his mouth to wish the men out, a clock face appeared—the hour hand and the minuet hand made one complete circuit and time froze.

An eldery ghost slid out of the portal made and shook his head sadly. "It is impossible to change the past, no matter how much we might wish to do so."

Wanda changed from her bird form to her true figure. Cosmo did not follow suit, as he was too busy looking for cookie crumbs in the carpet. "Clockwork! How did you--?"

The purple-clocked floating individual, who just happened to have a pendulum visible where his chest should be, let the corners of his pale lip curl upwards. "Not to worry, Wanda. I saw the boy wish to change everything. Unfortunately, this is just a cartoon. So, we must all say good-bye."

The three non-humans turn to face the reader. "Yes, it was a tragedy, that 9-11 happened. But we can remember those who died and respect the wishes of the survivors. Like 7 December 1941, America was attacked on its own soil. Don't let us forget or give up just because the going gets tough.


	5. Happy Mother's Day

**Another oneshot based on Butch Hartman's cartoon series. Enjoy.**

Timmy Turner, a short ten-year-old boy, woke to a strong beam of sunlight shining in his face.

He yawned and sat up before looking towards his goldfish bowl. It was empty.

"COSMO! WANDA! POOF!" Young Timmy yelled. With a poof, three floating figures appeared above the dresser.

"Guess what?" asked the dwarf-like figure with green spiky hair, "Guess, come on Timmy, guess?" He started bouncing off the walls and onto the unmade bed.

Timmy frowned. "Not in the mood for guessing Cosmo. I wish to know why you three weren't here when I woke up." He shouted, angry.

The small figure in purple pajamas shook his rattler, and smiled.

Timmy rolled his brown eyes. "I didn't mean you Poof, I mean your parents. This is a Sunday! Not a Fairy Holiday. " His eyes widened and he looked at the two parents. "Is it?"

The pink-haired lady smiled and waved her wand. Several sheets of colored construction paper, glue, scissors and a few other assorted items popped in the room and were scattered all over the floor.

"It's not a Fairy Holiday, but a human one. Since Poof is the first child in thousands of years, all of Fairy World is celebrating."

Cosmo couldn't hold his silence any longer. "It's Mother's Day! " He waved his wand, and fireworks exploded in the room. "I wanted to host the party in your room, but Wanda said 'no' and poofed us all to Fairy World!"

Poof, the baby fairy, continued waving his toy wand, and caused glitter paint to sparkle in the bottles—and all over the walls.

Wanda smiled reassuringly. "Why don't you make your mother a card?" Before Timmy could interrupt, she continued, "If an emergency does come up, just yell some more. Bye Timmy!"

Timmy's jaw dropped. It wasn't often his godparents or his adopted family had to disappear. Wait, that' wasn't quite right. Yes, sometimes there were things he wasn't invited to, but usually it was because Jorgan Von Strangle kidnapped them or something.

Timmy kicked the roll of ribbon and wadded through the dense layer of paper, cardboard, markers, and other card-designing items. He made it to the hallway outside his room and slammed the door shut. Still mad, he stomped down the stairs and towards the kitchen. He stopped near the sofa, because his mom and dad were sitting down and talking.

His frown deepened. His parents were again ignoring him. He reached out to throw something when his mother's eyes began shedding tears.

The ball in Timmy's hand dropped. Why was mom crying? She never shed tears—no matter how much pain she was in. Mother Turner wiped her face. "I just wish that I could have a homemade card from out son. Even if it was just once, I would treasure it forever."

Timmy's dad nodded. "I wouldn't mind getting a card either—though why I have to wait for Father's Day, I don't know. It's unfair, how we men can't celebrate on the same day our wives do!"

Timmy's shoulder's slumped forward and he slowly made his way back to his cluttered room. If it would cheer up his mom, he would make a stupid card.

Outside Dimsdale, a shadowy figure sniffed the air, and grinned. Red eyes glowed from within the black humanoid shape. White sparkling teeth appeared underneath a dark and evil smile. "Oh, this is going to be fun!" She laughed and flew through the town, unseen by the humans.

Back in Timmy Turner's bedroom, scraps of paper where piled in a trashcan while unused colored tissue was stuck under his bed, and the floor was visible once again. The glue, scissors, tape, glitter, stamps, ribbon, and other assorted items were on Timmy's bed, while the young boy himself was admiring the latest attempt at making the perfect Mother's Day card. Several broken crayons had rolled to the walls where they lay ignored.

Timmy stood up and grabbed the huge card and folded it. "There. That's . . . . almost perfect." He opened his dresser and reached inside before pulling out a black white envelope. The homemade card slid inside perfectly. "Now this is more like it." He grinned and smiled.

This time, while racing down the stairs, he laughed and giggled. The cheerful noise reached his parents shortly before he did.

Both Mom and Dad were standing and waiting in the kitchen by the time their son walked into the kitchen. There was another living being in there too, but she was uninvited and invisible.

Spectra's claws were almost touching Mom Turner when the annoyingly cheerful boy came in and distracted her prey. Snarling, the ghost flew through the wall and sunk her claws into the clothing. Her poison had almost reached the heart when her sharp red eyes spied the envelope.

Spectra forgot about her need to drain the human female of her happiness. She touched the homemade card and sniffed. Not paying any attention to the kid or his stunned parents, she cradled the card and headed home. She wasn't forgotten or abandoned.

Timmy's jaw dropped again. His eyes widened again. "My card! It's possessed!" He screamed. His parents jumped back and landed on their butts, trying to escape from the monstrosity that Timmy had almost handed them.

They could not see Spectra, but they did notice the envelope open and the card read by something. Timmy heard the contented sigh, but except for his earlier cry of shock, remained speechless. Only when his fourth attempt at perfection had flown away, did his watery eyes gaze upon his parents.

"I just wanted to make a special card for you, mom."

Mother sighed after getting her beating heart under control. "Well, why don't we see if we can make another one, hmm? Just you and me—though, can we not add the special effects this time"

Timmy smiled. "Sure." The two stood up and left Dad Turner behind, in the kitchen. "Mom? Thanks."


	6. Timmy and Spectra

**DIsclaimer: I DO NOT OWN! Have fun reading this drabble.**

Timmy Turner, though eleven years old, had not gone through any growth spurts that a few of his classmates and friends had experienced, flopped onto his washed-out red comforter. He rolled onto his stomach and faced his two goldfish. "Man, today was awful. I wish I didn't have Crocker as my fifth grade teacher."

The goldfish disappeared and two god-fairies appeared above the fishbowl. "Uh, remember what happened last time you wished for something similar?" asked the pink-haired one.

The green-haired fairly laughed. "I don't. Then again, I can't think of anything I do know."

Timmy buried his face in the sheet. "Oh yeah. There is no way I want 'Ms. Sunshine' back here." He looked back up at his magical godparents. "I wish that something--not anti-faires, not pixies, not aliens, and no humans--would attack Mr. Crocker."

Wanda and Cosmo looked at each other then raised their wands together.

Miles away, a vague female shaped figure turned to the short individual at her side. "Excuse me?"

The male raised his voice. "I said, 'Since Phantom has kicked us out of Amity Park again, why not set up camp elsewhere?' We've had some good feeding grounds in city's that don't believe in ghosts or other paranormal beings."

The lady tapped her chin with a thin, sharp red painted fingernail. "The suggestion has merit." Her voice grew cold, and promised pain for someone. "I like it. In fact, I may know of the perfect town."

Back in Dimsdale, the next morning, everything started out normally.

In a cookie-cutter style, two story yellow house, an alarm clock rang, waking the short boy in the bed, and disturbing the sleep of his pet fish. Timmy glanced at the time flashing on the digital clock and slid onto the floor; yawning as he did so. While he was getting ready for breakfast, a dog barked outside.

Wanda changed her form from that of a goldfish to her natural appearance and floated towards the window, trying to find the disturbance of the morning peace. After spying the dog, she gasped and zoomed back towards her charge. "Timmy, look out the window, please?"

Timmy, confused, obeyed. "I see a lady dressed in black, walking a green glowing dog. Can I go eat now?"

Wanda sighed. "Yes. Cosmo and I will be waiting for you by the door."

"Cool."

At school, Timmy sat down in his front-row seat, seconds before the bell rang. He pulled out a green book with huge eyes on the cover, and a thick pink pencil.

The classroom door slammed into the wall, and Mr. Crocker, a pencil-thin man balding on top, snarled as he stomped into the room. "Good morning, class. For arriving on time, I give you all 'A's". He marched around the deskswhile handing out yesterday's quiz. "As you can see from the F's I gave everyone, I expect you all to have an extremly bad day while I have fun torturing Turner."

Alex Johnson and Chester McBadbat on opposite sides of Timmy blinked rapidly. Sanjay and Elmer shrank into their seats, trying to avoid direct eye contact.

Midway through the lesson that was spent yelling and screaming when the students didn't answer right away, Principal Waxelplax walked in with and stepped in front of the anorexi teacher. "Oh, good, you're in." She spun, again blocking Mr. Crocker's way. "Ms. Spectra, come, meet the group you've been assigned."

A tall lady, dressed in red, waltzed in and stood where everyone could see her. Her hair, blood red in color, was piled on top of her head, and here green-eyes flicked to the students, then back to the adults. She breathed in deeply, and focused on the tall male. "It will be a pleasure to work here, Mrs. Wzxelplax."

The book and pencil shivered uncontrollably. "I don't like her." whispered Timmy, who didnot notice the other students giving releaved sighs, as the principle, teacher, and new staff member leave the room.

No one noticed when the young lady's green eyes flashed red for a second.

In the hallway, Crocker yelled loud enough for everyone to hear. "I don't need councilling! I demand that you select another teacher to be subject to this govermnet oversight."

Waxelplax shook her head. "Can't do that, Mr. Crocker. Regulations state that when a member of this facility become emotionally unstable, steps be taken to retify the situation. Spectra is the first step; however if you insist on refusing, I will have no choice but to put you on sick-leave."

Spectra wandered back into the classroom and sat at the never-used chair behind the desk in the corner. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply.

Crocker slammed the door again. He stepped over to his desk and pulled out a red rubber stamp with a big backwards F inscribed on the end. He shuffled a few papers and flung them at the kids after stamping every single one. "Take this and go."

Lunch break couldn't come soon enough.

The second the bell rang, the pencil and book disappered, leaving their human charge alone. Timmy didn't notice their absence, though he thought he was forgetting something as he stepped into the hallway. On the way to the cafetteria, Timmy sighed. "Nothing's happened. What's taking so long?"

When there was no answer, Timmy spun around in confusion. "Cosmo? Wanda, where are you guys?"

The pack on his back whispered; "in here, child."

The backpack slid onto the floor, and a slender arm slipped inside the opening. He pulled out the fake inatimate objects. "Okay, I know I didn't place you two there."

The pencil cleared her throat. "Remember when you wished that something would attack your teacher?"

Timmy nodded, not understanding.

Wanda sighed. "Spectra isn't human. She, and those of her ilk, fairys fear. I can only warn you not to be miserable in her presence." With her warning, given, the pencil shimmered and disappeared back into the bag.

The rest of the day passed in time. Timmy forgot about Wanda's cryptic message, and openly enjoyed the dismay his hated teacher suffered during the last half of the school day. He was laughing as he stepped outside to walk home when he bumped into Francis.

Fear blossomed in Timmy's chest. He hurridly glanced around and saw A.J, Chester, Elmer, Sanjay and the other students edge away. The boys had fresh brusies, or were rubbing their arms. Francis made a fist and hit his palm. "You're mine, Turner."

The small boy turn and ran back into his classroom. His brown eyes widdened as he spied Spectra holding onto Crocker's shoulder and growing younger and stronger looking, while he teacher faded and aged. Spectra noticed the intrusion and snapped a finger. "Bertred"

The same glowing wolf-like dog Timmy saw earlier passed through the wall, and smacked it's saliva encrusted teeth. "Fresh meat," the animal said, before pouncing at the prey.

Timmy screamed and ran outside. Francis was a known danger, and prefered--he'd even take evil, icky Vicky over this strange invasion.

The ghostly creature stopped chasing once Timmy escapped into the sunlight. "Run away, foolish boy. You'll be back."

Timmy didn't stop running until he was back in his bedroom. His chest heaved, and he panted. "I thought," pant, "I couldn't" breath in, "be harmed" breath out, "by my wishes?" exhale.

Cosmo and Wanda appeared above the bed. Cosmo started doing flips around the room, while Wanda stuttered. "Well, uh, you see, Timmy, that, uh, our magic is connected to you, but foolish wishes are dangerous."

Cosmo laughed. "Yeah, seems every one of my godchildren gets into some kind of danger."

Timmy sighed. "So, it's Cosmo's fault?" He didn't wait for Wanda to answer. "I wish Spectra and her creepy dog would go away."

The wands--looking like stars on sticks--were pulled out and shimmered, before glowing brightly for one second.

The youngest Turner peaked through the crack between his door, and the adjacent wall. "So, is the problem gone?"

Cosmo peared around the corner. "Not gone, misplaced."

_**The Fairly Odd Parents**_**, and**_** Danny Phantom **_**series****are owned by**_** Butch Hartman, **_**broadcasted on the **_**Nickelodeon**_** network.**


	7. See you at the Flag

**Quacked Lurker gains nothing from these pieces of fiction BASED OFF OF SOMEONE ELSE'S COPYRIGHT!!!**

The battered flagpole leaning over the entrance of Casper High had seen better days. On the day the flagpole was installed, it was pristine, and perfect. Now, after decades of faithful service and almost-daily use, it was worn and looked it.

The faculty tried to keep the flagpole, the hallways, the grounds, and everything on school property as new-looking as possibly: however, budget cuts meant no polish, damages caused during ghost fights, broken lockers from hazing of freshmen and nerds or geeks, graffiti and other repairs were prioritized higher. Still, the flagpole did its duty and proudly held up the American Flag Monday through Friday, September to June.

The flagpole was serviceable, yet bent. Strong still, yet slowly being covered in rust. Taken for granted, because it was only there to hold the flag up. If it was originally built like a telephone pole or even had a secondary purpose to help light the sidewalks, then perhaps the small thin sheet and pole screwed into the wall at a forty-five degree would have received more attention--or at least recognized by the hundreds of students which passed under it daily.

On the day that Casper High hosted elementary students from out of town, the faithful tool finally gave way to the elements of time, neglect, and ignorance.

Timmy Turner, sighed as he reluctantly followed Crocker's fifth grade class out of the Dimsdale bus and into a prospective High School. He hung his head not bothering to look around and explore the school--it wasn't a fun field trip. It was a mandated school trip that the entire Dismdale Elementary school district had to take, and Crocker, being unable to argue his way out of skipping the session was less fun than ever. Even Frances kept his fists to himself during the ride.

With a reluctant step, Timmy stepped onto the sidewalk that seemed to mock him and his entire life. The older, bigger kids were in attendance, which made the situation worse, because now either their lunch, or free periods were being taken up with showing the ten and eleven year olds around their campus. The school board wasn't going to insist that this learning experience interrupt other teacher's classes, nor were they going to ask for volunteers. No, the school boards and bureaucrats decided those with free time would be recruited into giving the preteens the experience of a lifetime.

A.J. kept away from Mr. Crocker as did Chester and every other student with survival in mind. In fact, the entire class tromped behind the irate school teacher, not risking any behavior that might compel him to give a personalized F to who ever he felt deserved it.

Crocker, halted shortly before the doors and turned to face his students. Before he could open his mouth to shout or reprimand anyone, a sudden snap echoed through the school yard. Timmy, way in the back, looked up. His jaw dropped. The flag under which Mr. Crocker stood was falling. "NO" he screamed, pushing his way forward to try to limit the physical damage.

The pole and its burden, fell and hit the ground. The teenagers gasped--at least, those who looked up and saw the accident before it happened.

There was nothing under the flag that lay twisted upon the ground.

A prone figure off to the side shoved a black haired kid aside. "Off me, you malicious fool. I don't need your help and I certainly never asked for assistance either." Crocker stood up and brushed the imaginary grass stains off his pristine, white shirt. He stepped over the sprawled kid who seemed hurt by the teacher's attitude.

Timmy ignored Crocker. Even though he hated the teacher--who was only teaching to fill a supposedly temporary position while searching for FairyGodParents--he didn't want the adult bane of his life to be hurt. "Are you okay?"

The black-haired, blue eyed teen stood up and brushed off grass clippings from his red sleeved shirt. "I'm fine, thanks for asking." He turned and walked away from the tragety that had almost happened.

Before following, Timmy whispered to his pink backpack and green sweater, "I wish the flagpole was as good as new." Unnoticed by any of the scattering crowed, two black sticks with shiny gold stars twinkled for one second and the flagpole and its burden were instantly standing straight and proud, back where they belonged.

"Hey, can I at least know your name? I don't know anyone who's willing to risk their lives, reputation or anything else to help Mr. Crocker, the foulest, meanest, absolute worst teacher in the whole universe."

The teen chuckled. He stopped walking away and faced the out-of-towner. "The name is Daniel Fenton, but my friends call me Danny." Danny held out his hand.

"Cool!" Timmy took the offered hand and shook. "Does this mean I'm your friend?"

Danny Fenton shrugged. "If you want to be, sure." Something unheard by Timmy caught his new acquaintance's attention. "Did you want to join me and my fellow outcasts for lunch?"

Timmy shrugged. He shuffled his feet and turned his back on his class. "Sure, I've got nothing better to do, and I bet you know your way around better than most."

Danny grinned. "You have no idea," he whispered.


	8. New YearOld Day

_**Fairly Odd Parents**_** and **_**Danny Phantom**_** are being borrowed from Butch Hartman. This is not intended for profit of me or my name.**

A pale kid scuffed his feet as we walked down the sidewalk, heading away from Dimsdale's Elementary School. "Adults are no fun."

His companion, a dull white skeletal squirrel, chattered and argued. "Of course not, they're adults!"

The black-haired, ten year old, waved his arm and shoved the animal away. "I wanted to play with someone, but no one's reacted to my presence. Where are all the kids in this dim-dull town?"

The squirrel signed. "It's Dimsdale, and all the fun people should be in class."

The kid gave up pretending to be a transfer student and let himself float above the sidewalk. "Well, in that case, time to liven the town."

"Wait, Youngblood! What if someone sees you?"

Youngblood laughed. "I don't care! The teacher's can't see me."

Inside the school, one fifth grade teacher was waving his makeshift fairy-detector around the tables before the students poured into the room, anxious for the day to be over. "Drat! No fairies here." Mr. Crocker dropped his odd looking contraption in the bottom most drawer of his desk and slammed it shut. His black beady eyes sparkled unnaturally when the imagined bane of his life walked through the door. "Pop Quiz everyone!"

Timmy Turner, Francis,, AJ, Chester, and all the other kids groaned when they got their tests. The dull start was soon enlivened by the presence of a chalky-white kid who floated through the chalkboard and scribbled on the wall. Fearing Crocker's wrath, none of them gave any acknowledgement that they saw the strange apparition.

Crocker meanwhile, had edged his device out of its hidey-hole when it started giving off a strange sound. Instead of the beep he wanted when it found fairies in range, it was letting off a very high-pitched whine. Curious, and not really seeing a need to pay attention to the students, other than to keep the room absolutely quiet, Crocker gently spun the dials and honed in on the location of the supernatural entity it had picked up.

Youngblood, meanwhile, had stopped trying to make the kids laugh, and instead moved to throw the adult's stuff around. He drew even with the first row of kids and squawked like a plucked chicken when he became entangled in something unexpected.

Crocker's grin gave the ghost and living shivers down their backs. He held a butterfly net that held the captured intruder. "At last, I have proof that fairies exist!"

Youngblood screamed in anger. "WHAT? I ain't a fairy. I am a ghost you . . . you evil person you!" He crossed his arms and sulked, too angry and shocked to phase through the simple net that held him prisoner.

Crocker laughed. He turned his glare and grin to the human-sized child that floated before him. "I thought you'd be smaller. Too hard to hid that ugly face."

Meanwhile, Timmy and his classmates had slid out of their seats. One or two had escaped the room, to find safety elsewhere, while the rest moved towards the far wall, away from the crazy adult.

Crocker wasn't finished taunting his prey. "Where are your wings, young one? It's such a shame that you are out here, all alone." Still laughing, Crocker took his prize and left the room, heading to his secret underground lair where he could properly contain the struggling non-fairy and document his finding to the world.

**The End! For now--all these are up for adoption, if you wish to continue, but I will be adding more chapters (not necessarily related) as the muse strikes.** If any of you readers have a particular ghost/fairy appearance you want, just submit the suggestion, and it will be taken into consideration.

_Thanks for reading. Have a wonderful new year_


	9. Memory of Veterans

**Disclaimer: **All the characters are from the show(s) Butch Hartman thought up and designed. **These are one-shot drabbles!** _Read at your own risk_!

Dimsdale Elementary School was a one story-building with not a whole lot to differentiate it from other Schools in the city or state. In fact, the only thing that made it stand out was one of the ten-year old boys who wandered its halls five times a week from August to June.

Every school, every group, had at least one outcast who has stopped trying to fit in. Every time, it seams, the people struggling to survive, to understand this complicated and materialistic society become younger and more jaded.

Timmy Turner, a ten-year old boy, the only child of Mr. and Mrs. Turner, wouldn't know how to react if he really was what everyone referred to as a 'classic underachiever'. His short and hard life was only brightened by his goldfish, and the random pink or green objects he constantly talked to as if they could and did respond.

Timmy was the shortest kid in his class—shorter than AJ and a few other ten-year olds that the almost-teenaged bully (who'd been held back a few times) picked on because he could. If being the favorite punching bag for this Francis wouldn't hold him back socially and mentally, then being picked on by the tall, obsessive, and uncaring teacher Daniel Crocker, did him more harm than the lack of parental attention from his parents.

The week before Memorial Day, the end of the month before the sixth-graders graduated to junior High Schools, started out semi-normal for a kid who was not normal. Timmy mindlessly kicked a rock down the street as he made his way to school, "Hey, Cosmo, Wanda, I wish to encounter something to liven up my day."

The green backpack pulled a wand from its side and waved a stick-thin arm as the fairy- godparent said, "You got it, Timmy." The pink squirrel running along side Timmy squeaked out "Wait!" too late.

A cardboard box, brown in color with no distinguishing features, appeared on the corner, just in time for the short boy to kick it accidentally. "I didn't mean to make me trip over a stupid box!" Timmy shouted at Cosmo, who stopped trying to be a backpack.

Cosmo shifted forms and hovered over the closed box. "It's not empty!" he said, waving his wand around, "take a look inside of it!"

Timmy huffed and bent the top flap to see what treasures it held. Puzzled, the kid pulled out a folded cloth triangle with a blue background and white stars on top, and red-and-white strips on the bottom. "What is it?"

The pink squirrel gave up being discrete and joined her husband in her real form. "Cosmo, does this belong to someone from the military?" She demanded.

Deciding the information was taking too long in coming, Timmy dropped the material on the ground and dug around the small items inside, pulling out a gold-pocket-watch.

Cosmo whistled, "No." Wanda glared at him. Cosmo wilted. "Fine, I poofed it out of the attic of the family of someone who died overseas, happy?"

Timmy dropped the pocket-watch. "WHAT?" The pocket-watch landed intact on the abandoned flag that was symbolically draped over the coffin before burial. "I don't want to be touching some dead-guy's stuff."

Cosmo shrugged. "It's not like he remembers owning the stuff anyway."

Before Wanda could reprimand her husband of over two-thousand years, a blue-human floated by. His empty eyes spotted the box and he cried out, "Give that back! It's my brother's!"

Timmy backed off, "Sorry pal, I didn't mean to disturb your stuff."

Cosmo spun around a grinned. "Hey Crate Creep, how's it going?"

The blue-skinned human glowed briefly. "My name is the Box Ghost!" His hands stayed illuminated while the rest of him reverted back to the pale blue he was earlier. The box in front of Timmy, along with its disregarded memories, trembled briefly before lifting off the ground and following the box-ghost's hand jesters.

Wanda wasted no time. She zipped to Timmy who screamed "I wish I was at School already!" and poofed them both into Mr. Crocker's classroom unnoticed by the teacher and other students who were staring at the boxes that were also floating and moving at random.

Cosmo didn't follow. He was chattering to the box Ghost and didn't notice the fact both his wife and his godchild were absent. However, he did hear the school bell ring two minuets later. "Oh my gosh! I'm going to be late for my class." He gave himself the appearance of a pencil and transported himself onto Timmy's desk.

Crocker had his back to the students and missed the flash of light. He was frowning at the floating boxes, which were now settling to the ground. "Okay, so my Fairy-detection radar rod isn't working." He turned back to the students and showed his teeth when he smiled. The teeth were yellow and uneven—some were higher than others, some lower, a few were sticking out. This sight grossed at least one of his students out a week—on a good day, he could get two or three kids to either loose their appetite, or dash for the restroom before making a mess on the floor. There was no movement from the mostly-ten and eleven-year olds. Crocker lowered his lips and began speaking.

"Today, class, we are going to name some of the wars in which American troops fought and died in. Can anyone tell me why they were in battle?"

Chester raised his hand, gulping when Crocker pointed to him. "Because they hated the other people?"

Crocker crackled. "You're Wrong! Here's an F." He threw a paper air-plain to Chester and glared at AJ. "Don't speak up."

Francis pointed a grey-dirty hand to the wall behind the teacher. "Who's that?" the bully stammered.

Crocker refused to turn. The pale eyes behind the glasses sparkled when he noticed all the kids were backing up, trying to escape from whatever the mindless kid with fairy god parents had wished up this time. "Many times, wars were fought by men who believed in what they were willing to give their lives.

"The American colonies banded together for freedom from oppressive political monarchs who couldn't care less about their subjects. Many other revolutions began similarity, with the vast majority of low-class and foreigners unable to have faith in the government that oppressed and ruled every single- aspect of their lives—including the religious tones.

"Back in Europe before all of us were born, one king said it was illegal to be Protestant, and the next man (or woman) in power, insisted that being Catholic was punishable by death—witch burnings were popular.

"And now, we are back to the same religious intolerance! It is mandated that No one say there is only one way to heaven, and that the name of Jesus shall not be mentioned (unless of course, we have a Hispanic or other nationality, where that is someone's name, in which case we make clear it is not being used in a historical or religious way), and that if someone believes differently from us, we are to accept it!"

Crocker would have continued his rant, except a pale hand had just passed through his arm. Started, the teacher, turned to face the distraction. His already pale skin dropped another skin-tone and he shrieked before fainting.

The Box ghost waved his hands in front of the teacher. "I just wanted to get his attention" he muttered before hugging the box that followed him tightly and departing.

**Quacked Lurker (me) does not own anything**_. Although, the rant from Crocker is a view-point of mine. If I got any of the historical information wrong, please excuse me, its been some time since my history class in High school. _


	10. Fireworks Spectacular

The moonless night was illuminated by thousands of twinkling stars. The firework show would begin soon.

Timmy Turner sighed from his position between his parents. Both Mom and Dad were sitting and just talking, while their only child kept his eyes on the white specks of light. He almost wished his fairly odd parents could have been here tonight, so he wouldn't be board. Then again, it was either the goldfish helping him survive Vicky's wrath, or time with his usually absent and unobservant parents.

"Oh, look, son! The rockets are being shot off!" Mom Turner was giddy with joy to see the red flash of light and short-lived sparkles. Dad Turner just turned his neck to see what the Dinkleburgs were doing.

Not impressed with the colored flashes of light, nor the patterns that quickly faded, Timmy opened one eye and watched the newest rocket explode in mid-air. "It's nice, mom."

Dad snorted. "At least the neighbors have never done anything as cool as watch the fireworks show from their rooftop!"

Timmy reluctantly sat up. "Yeah, they're probably sitting with all the other adults on the school lawn area." _Like Chester and his dad, or AJ and his folks_ the lonely child thought.

A blast of frigid cold air shot past the three Turners, leaving icicles in Mrs. Turner's long brown hair. "That's odd." Her husband didn't notice anything amiss. Neither did her son, who was more interested in the blue shaped stars that didn't disappear at all-no these blue pinpricks of light just floated up in the sky, and Timmy might have said they glowed from within, but there was no way he was going to allow one of Cosmo's pranks to scare him. Even if this effect was unnatural and sure to be seen and fixed by Jorgan Van Strangle before the night was over.

The three Turners were far enough from the launch pad of the rockets to not be deafened by the noisy blasts from the ground-bound shriekers. They were probably the only ones in the entire city of Dimsdale to hear two figures fighting up in the sky.

One of the two ghost-like figures was blue-skinned and his black hair highlighted the vampire look the elongated canines and solid blood-red eyes gave him. He wore a light blue robe lined with red velvet and black boots. The younger one, wore a black-skin tight suit and was visible only by his glowing green eyes and bright white hair. They were trading punches in mid air.

The fireworks were forgotten for the most part, but they did provide spectacular background strobe-light effects every time one exploded. All that could really be made out were "ouch" and "That hurt, Insolent boy!"

Altogether, it proved an unforgettable night after all-even though Timmy would much rather have spent some of the time with his floating godparents.

**Disclaimer: **My story, but not my characters. _Butch Hartman designed these worlds and individuals. Tell me where I can improve if I didn't do justice to both realms/realities._


	11. Titans Clash

**I am not Butch Hartman, nor do I work for the television companies. In addition, I am not affiliated with entertainment productions in any way what-so-ever.** So, there is no ownership being contested here._ Just one aspiring writer paying tribute to Butch Hartman._

* * *

**A Last Encounter:**

Night fell quickly outside cities and towns. The black sky was peppered with twinkling stars. Those stars were easily bigger than the entire planet, but were so far away, that in the huge expanse, they appeared to be no bigger than pencil marks. A keen eye could see some of the lights moving in the sky above.

None of the moving lights were stars. They came from a variety of sources: flashlights just ahead, helicopter landing gear, airplane floodlights, and headlights from cars. It did not matter. Each pinprick of light pierced the darkness and made the oppressive darkness flinch away, just a little.

Most of the stars appeared to be white. Outside the atmosphere, they showed colors of reds, blues, and some yellows. Regardless of the color, they all helped illuminate the way. Which was good, because tonight, there was no moon breaking up the deep blackness of the countryside.

The lack of light did nothing to slow two very different paranormal creatures. They did not depend on the sun's light to see, nor did they interact with the physical realm in the same way the humans did. In fact, the fact this encounter between the two being happened after most sane individuals were in bed, was a blessing in disquise.

Most humans, if they saw either creature or being, would either start to question their sanity or doubt their eyesight. After all, what politically correctly thinking individual believed in fairies or ghosts? Believing in either showed 'third-world' upbringing or showed one's lack of trust in scientific evidence. After all, everyone insists, the physical realm is all there is. All the emotional and mental problems can be counterbalanced with more chemicals and compounds. Who needs the spiritual or supernatural when man can control everything?

Everyone insists that, because no one wants to admit there is no controlling the elements. That there is always something we cannot explain, and refuse to believe in because there is no tangible proof. That is what most of the higher educated world said. There were exceptions. One major exception was the town of Amity Park. Another area that broke the pattern was a group of ten year olds in Dimmsdale, and other assorted children whose homelife was very bleak.

Timmy Turner, used to seeing the bizarre, and thriving where other people stopped thinking, was just one of many who missed the upcomming meeting between a fairy he knew, and a ghost he'd never encountered. Perhaps it was for the best. After all, even kids looking forward to Christmas and New Years, had to fall asleep sometime.

Jorgen Von Strangle, a uniquely intimidating sight in Fairy World, and wherever he chose to show himself, stomped through the trees and fields. He ignored the path at his side and forged his way through the plants. However, there was no sign of his passing left behind. The water did not splash, nor did the dirt settle down to reveal footprints as the muscular fairy continued towards the confrontation ahead.

Walker the Warden of Ghost Zone paused in his march to thrust his white gloved fist at birds who sat on the wires between the telephone poles. He grumbled to himself; _At home, everyone flees my presence. Most fear my arrival. These stupid creatures are rude! Not paying the respect due to me. I hate this human world and its inhabitants!_ He continued on, deciding not to pay any attention to other animals that would not avoid his passage.

Months earlier, the Box Ghost had complained that a child's wish had stolen some very important belongings from his private refuge. Walker's response? _Human Contraband was recalled to earth? Good Riddance. Does my job description say _I care_ about your stuff? _Jorgen had received Wanda's report with grace, and promised to look into it later. In reality, the Military Fairy was unconcerned about a chance encounter with a ghost. It was understood that ghosts and fairies did not interact. If one group had a definite presence in the human village or town, the other side avoided the area.

Both would have shrugged of the encounter and left it at that. However, the interactions between their groups in the human towns did not end after one visitation. They had increased in frequency, and were now costing more resources and time than budgeted in clean-up duties. The borders had been drawn, and the lines were crossed.

Walker was a giant in his Zone. Jorgen feared nothing at home. Both were impressive, powerful figures that had everyone else scrambling to stay out of range. Here on earth, it was neutral ground. Humans had proved time and time again, that it wasn't the tallest or biggest who ruled. No, the small had won battles, and were the turning point of many wars. While muscles might have been one factor that led to a nation conquering another, it was the determined who survived. History did not recall the names of the physical giants who walked the land, but the mental giants, those with ideas who could and did band others together.

The world that neither figure had an edge, was the meeting place. It was in the human world, where ideas ran rampant and changed countless lives, when individuals were allowed to be unique, and to make their imprint on others, that these two leaders met.

Jorgen was the first to spy the other. "Intruder!" He shouted, shooting a bolt of energy at the figure dressed in a white suit.

Walker responded almost immediately. "Pest!" the ghost hissed, aiming a blast of red flames at the other. While Jorgen dodged out of the path, Walker calmly picked up his ten gallon hat and dusted it off.

Jorgen refused to ignore the implied insult. Rolling away from the flames, he threw another bolt of energy at the gleaming ghost, again knocking the hat off the skull. Jorgen's smile of satisfaction was wiped off his face when he was thrust into a tree.

Walker's black eyes narrowed. He didn't bother with the flames in his second volley, he just let loose with a second blast. This time he connected solidly.

The battle began at midnight with those few exchanges. The two individuals continued trading shots all through the night. When one was hit, the other received a glancing blow. Injuries did not last long, but the remembered pain kept them going.

From afar, the battlefield was illuminated by brief flashes of light. Some might have mistakenly assumed that fireworks were being shot off except that everything was at ground level, and the beams did not dissipate into harmless sparkles of color. Real damage occurred in the near-misses. Trees gained burn marks, rocks exploded under the intense heat, and the hard ground broke open. In the morning, it would appear as if something heavy and hard was dragged through it- -probably a plow, except this wasn't farm land, and the furrows were either single or in pairs, and were about five feet in length.

Dawn came and was ignored. Neither the ghost nor the fairy noticed when the inky black sky gained some color. The Royal Blue horizon slowly lightened and herald the arrival of the sun from the east. It was only the arrival of a yellow school bus that made both pause.

The driver shook his head and passed off the sight of two twelve foot high figures as a hallucination. It was that or stress, because statutes did not glow white, nor were they a deep yellow-bronze in the middle of nowhere that disappeared in a blink.

Breathing hard, Jorgen ducked into the forest. Walker right on his heals. The fairy and ghost watched from their hiding spot as the bus continued along the road, ignorant of what it had interrupted. Once the bus was out of sight, Jorgen stood up and spun around. His meaty fist poked Walker in the sternum. "I don't want to hear of any more ghosts passing through Dimmsdale. Is that understood?"

Walker shoved aside the offending hand. "Take it up with the Halfa. I'd love to see you make mincemeat of Amity Park's so-called protector."

Jorgen Von Strangle bit back a scream. "Just Leave Dimmsdale and its inhabitants alone."

Warden Walker shrugged. "Sure." He pulled out a white stick and lit the end before placing it in his mouth. "I have no problem rounding up any unwanted visitors for you."

Jorgen snarled. "I've already done that. It's your job to make sure they don't come back." He spun on his heal, confident that his demand would be met.

Walker looked at the sky. "And a new era begins." He snorted and dropped the stick on the ground. Before Walker left, the red embers were ground into the dirt.

In the end, the conflicts between the ghosts and fairies would continue. But for now, and for the foreseeable future, there would be no more incidences between their two species.


	12. Friendly Contact

**Pokes head up from cluttered basement. _Oh, hear already? Don't mind the dust, I am just straightening up some loose papers, trying to organize my contacts. Strangely, I can't find anything linking me to Butch Hartman. Guess me working in Nickelodeons Studios was just a dream. _****Emerges from downstairs and walks into the living room. _What crossover suites your fancy this visit? _**

Timmy Turner, the only child of Mom and Dad Turner, lived in Dimsdale. He had two best friends, AJ and Chester. The town babysitter, Vicky, was Timmy's nemesis. Well, if a ten year old boy can have a personal enemy who just happens to be a fourteen year old girl who loves weapons and knows how to torture her charges with chores and verbal beatings, it was Timmy. The only real respite this utterly average kid that no one understood had was his two pet goldfish. How had he gotten these goldfish, when he hadn't asked his parents for a pet, and it wasn't a surprise gift from a friend? Well, they were special gold fish. In reality, they were his fairly odd parents who could grant almost every wish uttered by their godson.

It was summer break. The first Saturday after school let out for the summer. Timmy was bored. He wasn't interested in early morning cartoons. What could interest a boy after he had entered his comic books and played side kick to his favorite here, The Crimson Chin? That, and the mess after channel surfing through the various shows and programs as if they were real live situations instead of staged sets, animated cartoons just weren't fun anymore.

"I wish I could have a friend."

Wanda disappeared from the goldfish bowl. "You have two friends. Why do you need to wish for another? Unnoticed by either of them, the green eyed goldfish waved a small stick, and the gold star at the end of the black stick glowed slightly.

Timmy signed. "Cause AJ and Chester are busy doing stuff with their fathers. I want a friend who doesn't have a father who can take their son on cool trips to Adventure Parks, Theme Worlds, or other stuff out of town."

Wanda frowned. "That's very specific."

"Don't care," Timmy grunted. He continued to watch the boring show, wanting his mom to cook breakfast, for they were all out of cereal. Saturdays were the worst day to spend in bed, and while it was boring to go fishing, at least it was with his dad, and not alone. Again.

The cartoon had the four talking turtles arguing about who got to go out, when the doorbell rang. Timmy jumped off the sofa and opened the door. "Who are you?

"Youngblood."

"Got any parents?"

"Um, no."

"Cool, wanna be my friend?"

"Sure?"

"Come on in then."

Timmy headed towards the kitchen, hoping the new kid would shut the door.

Timmy's mom was standing by the sink, washing the bowl. "Who was at the door, Timmy?"

"My new friend, Youngblood."

Mom Turner put the dish on the counter and plastered a happy expression on her face before turning around. "Pleased to meat you," her eyes narrowed and the smile fell. "There's no one here Timmy."

Dad Turner pulled out his seat. "Oh, yet another invisible friend. You have quite the active imagination, son." He placed his large hands on Timmy's hat and tried ruffling the hair underneath. "Well, I need to be leaving soon. See you later, youngsters." Mr. Turner walked out of the house, oblivious to his son's distress.

Mrs. Turner wasn't as oblivious, but she didn't know how to cheer up her only child. "Why don't I just make you twice as much food, then?" She beamed cheerfully, before retreating to her own little world.

Timmy pushed away the plate, pancakes and all. "Suddenly I'm not hungry."

Youngblood, floating next to the fourth seat, lifted an arm. "Mind if I take some?"

Timmy shrugged. "Go ahead." He watched, wondering what the kid with a hook for a hand would do.

Youngblood speared the stack of pancakes. He bit one as he floated by the table. "Yum." Two more huge bits, and the entire pancake was gone. The kid stuffed a second one in his mouth, not bothering to cut it, and shoved it all in. He put so much in, that he couldn't close his lips while chewing.

Timmy sighed, wishing he could eat however he wanted, but knew that if he even thought about stuffing his face, or talking with a full mouth, mom would reprimand him for 'bad manners'. It wasn't fair! Why could his new friend eat anyway he wanted, while poor Timmy had to be polite and nice at meal time?

Youngblood burped, rattling the empty glass on the table. "Ah, that was good." Glowing green kid looked at Timmy. "So, what do you do for fun?"

Timmy rolled his eyes. "You're supposed to entertain me."

"I am?" asked Youngblood in surprise, then "I am!" The black Mickey-mouse hat, complete with a skull and two long bones in the shape of an X was raised and tossed around. "Then lets do some playing. Come on, friend, bet you can't catch me." Timmy grinned and chased after his new best-friend

Laughing, Youngblood few through the air, keeping low to the ground, going through objects that Timmy had to go around.

When Youngblood was finally tagged, the two ten-year old kids switched to another game.

For the rest of the summer, Timmy Turner and Youngblood played games that the shy, bullied kid had never heard of. They might have gotten in trouble for breaking a few things, and being in areas they weren't supposed to be, if there wasn't a pair of anxious fairy god parents hovering nearby, anxiously awaiting a wish to 'clean up a mess' or fix broken things. The best part about the summer, was when Vicky was babysitting, and Youngblood attacked her for hurting his friend.

Poor Vicky couldn't understand why every time she started screaming at Timmy, the coats would wrap around her face, the furniture would trip her, and the cleaning supplies would vanish. Mr. and Mrs. Turner were extremely pleased at the very clean house they came back to, but the frazzled babysitter refused to watch Timmy for the next three months, no matter how much cash the parents were offering.

On the first day of school, Mr. Crocker, the most hated teacher in all of Dimsdale, pulled out a glowing butterfly net and tangled Youngblood in the strings. "Hey! Let my friend go!" screamed Timmy, upset that his best fun buddy was being taken from him.

Youngblood groaned. "You can see me?"

"Yes, I can see you, weird looking fairy."

"You can hear me too."

"Of course I can hear you, nitwit. I can hear all fairies."

Timmy continued to scream, not realizing the fact that all adults (and teenagers) never saw Youngblood, and attributed any messes made to the wind, an earthquake, or other rowdy kids. Timmy didn't like touching Youngblood, because the other kid was cold, but he refused to yell, since every time Youngblood grabbed his arm, no one saw either of them. "Let Youngblood Go!" Timmy cried out, not caring that the other kids in the classroom were looking at him, and trying to edge away. Even AJ and Chester were pretending they didn't know Timmy.

Youngblood phased through the net, as if the strings were nothing. The ghost floated to eye level and sneered at the teacher. "You don't see just fairies. You see all magical creatures. Have fun trying to convince everyone you're sane, when no one else can see what you do."

He flew down to Timmy. "It's been a fun three months, but I got to go home now. See you next time, Timmy."

Timmy wiped his eye, "I don't want you to go!"

"I got to. Never did like school. Bye."

While Crocker glanced at his empty buttery fly net and the floating kid, the real children were avoiding their seats and the teacher. "Anyone else not see that?"

Everyone agreed that they had not seen a green-grey glowing kid, caught in a butterfly net, float through the wall and disappear. "Good, nothing weird happened today." Nods all around, and school was back in session, as if only a regular summer break had passed, and not the crazy things that were always happening around Timmy.

**No, I Cannot read your minds, so if there is a particular character you wish to see in this collection of one-shots, please, tell me.**

**Much thanks!**

Written 22 November 2011


	13. Lunch Lady versus Picky eater

**DO I _LOOK_**** like Butch Hartman? I haven't even met the guy! **

The lunch bell rang, cutting off Mr. Crocker's speech mid-sentence. The thin, scrawny teacher turned and glared at the bell, as if it were at fault. While his back was turned, the class, all twenty-five children scrambled for the door, rushing to escape the room.

Mr. Crocker turned and finished his speech. He did not notice that not one desk held a live body.

Timmy Turner, AJ, and Chester laughed as they passed the cafeteria. "That was great, AJ!"

Chester grinned. "Yeah, can we do that again, during the last class?"

AJ frowned. "I don't know guys. Setting the bell to go off five minutes early didn't hurt anyone, but continually escaping early for lunch, will be noticed. Besides, every minute we're out here, means one less minute we are learning valuable stuff from our teacher!"

Timmy slapped his forehead. "AJ, do we learn anything from Crocker besides how to terrorize others or make kids dread school? "

Chester stopped in front of the cafeteria doors. "I hate school, AJ. I can't stand the teacher. No one gets A's in his class, not even you."

AJ frowned as he grabbed a plastic grey tray. "Just because no one understands his methods doesn't mean the guy is mean."

Timmy turned up his nose at the glowing green meat-loaf. "Crocker is crazy! He believes in fairy-god parents when no one else has an imaginary friend!"

Chester passed on the meat-loaf. "The only reports I get from Crocker are all 'F's. My dad would have me transferred to across town, except nobody wants to come here."

AJ examined the food being served. "Okay, I won't ask you guys to stay in class longer than we have to, but I'm not going to ring the bell early again."

Timmy sighed. "Okay." He looked at the food on his tray. "Hey! Who put the meat-loaf on here? I don't like meat-loaf."

"But dearie, everyone needs to eat meat. Meat helps them grow big and strong."

Timmy removed his hands from his tray. "Not meat-loaf." He stepped backwards.

AJ and Chester glanced up at the speaker. They froze in fright. Timmy didn't bother looking at the cafeteria lady serving them food. "Take it off my plate!"

"Eat your meat, and you'll get a cookie."

"My mom makes better cookies than what the school offers."

"… DOOM! …"

Timmy was not prepared for what happened next. All the meat products – the glowing green meat-loaf, the old hamburger patties, the freezer-burnt steaks, the moldy bones, they all floated out of the serving pans, escaped the walk-in refrigerator and cold-storage freezer, or emerged from the black-lined trash bags. The meat then condensed around the legs of the talker (screamer), and formed a gigantic meat-based version of Pillsbury Dough Boy.

"EWW" Timmy cried, echoed by other children coming in from their classes after the real lunch-bell rang. AJ and Chester had ducked under the nearest table, trying to avoid being noticed by the green-skinned human.

"Gross, now I'm not hungry." Timmy turned and walked outside.

The brown-n-white meat monster collapsed, revealing a white haired, blood-shot green skinned female ghost. "But, everyone likes meat."

_Written March 10th, 2012_


	14. Ember and Skylark

**A review request:**

"Chip Skylark's _Shinny Teeth and Me_ is a record-breaking song – the top requested song that surpasses his latest début, _Evil Icky Vicky_. Amazing folks! I don't know how the young inspirational singer does it, but he is Dimsdale's latest, greatest celerity! Congratulations, Chip Skylark!"

The news announcer switched topics and went back to reporting the boring adult stuff, like weather and traffic conditions. Timmy's parents – Mom and Dad Turner – stayed glued to the television. Timmy himself grabbed his fishbowl and left the room. Once the living room walls separated the two groups, the wide-eyed goldfish disappeared and popped back into reality, floating just above eye level.

"You okay, Sport?" asked Wanda.

"I don't know," said Timmy, "I want to spend more time with Chip, but him being famous and all, it's okay if he doesn't have time for me." Both of his godparents knew that Timmy wanted, no needed to be with someone besides his school-friends.

"You know, you could wish for a singing sensation rival." Cosmos stated, trying to sneak into the living room just to watch the non action that was currently being displayed.

"Why would I want to wish for a rival? I like Chip Skylark! He doesn't push me aside or ignore me."

"Okay dookey!" Cosmos disappeared in a green cloud of smoke. Both Wanda and Timmy waved their hands.

"Was it something I said?" Timmy didn't wait for Wanda to reply, stomping up the stairs to his room, where the radio/television/computer station sat, begging to be turned on and used.

It was still raining outside, and with his best friends out of town, there remained no one his age he wanted to hang out with. If Evil Vicky's younger sister – the stalker who couldn't leave Timmy alone – weren't so icky and weird, she might be okay to talk to, but icky Vicky's sister? No way did Timmy want to have his parents take a trip or leave! Vicky the babysitter was worse than parents who barely recognized their only child, and pretended to forget his name half the time.

"You know, Timmy, Chip becoming someone everyone wants to meat isn't a bad thing." Wanda spotted a few scattered and discarded comic books. "Ready for your next adventure with _The Crimson Chin_?" Wanda's wand glowed, ready for an affirmative response.

Timmy didn't react; he had on red earphones, plugged directly into the television, and controlled Mario on the current game.

Wanda sighed, slipped back into her pet-goldfish roll and prepared to sleep. Cosmo's unexplained disappearance didn't worry her – his arrival might. No use borrowing trouble.

The next morning at breakfast, Timmy sat down, ready to eat. For once, his parents were eating with him – there was no television playing on and the radio was silent. Even the ever-present morning newspaper had vanished from sight. Mom Turner passed over two huge stacks of editable pancakes, which the man and boy ate faster than she could cook them.

"Hey Turner!" The next-door neighbor wandered into the house and fiddled with their radio.

Dad saw red. "DINKLEBURG, What do you want?"

"To turn on the radio." He said, just as he found the power button. Music blared through the speakers.

"NO!" screamed Timmy.

Too late.

Something about the music grabbed and hypnotized all three adults. Mr. and Mrs. Turner joined Dinkleberg and danced their way outside, ignoring the stack of dirty dishes, headless of the puddles and other hazards in the road. All of the town's adults were out, paying no attention to their kids or the dangers on the road.

Cosmos appeared.

"What did you do?" Wanda's eyes got big while read lines colored her face.

"Nothing," Cosmos whistled. Well, he tried to whistle.

The song ended and the same announcer from yesterday broke in. "And that was the overnight sensational single-hit success of Kcabs Rebme album. Folks, looks like this week we will be playing songs from unknown music artists twenty-four seven. Chip Skylark has fallen to second place, with Kcabs taking first. Kcabs has come out of nowhere!" The song began playing again – the exact same song repeated its spell-binding lyrics.

The Turners, Dinklebergs, all of the adults, including Mr. Crocker were enthralled, dancing and heading downtown with a single mind.

"Huh, I thought Crocker couldn't be touched by fairy magic."

Cosmos laughed weakly. "This isn't fairly magic. It's ghost magic."

Wanda's eyes shrank back to their normal size, but the pulsing red lines remained. "What ghost?" She was getting a very bad feeling about this.

"Ember McClain – She said she needed a new gig and wanted to prove herself, so when Timmy wished to have Chip all to himself-"

"I. DID NOT!" yelled Timmy. "I'm happy for Chip, and I want him to be the best singer and song writer – not this Ember who's stolen my dad and mom from me."

Cosmos continued as if he hadn't heard Timmy's outburst. "I talked to her, she agreed to leave the kids alone. All the kids not just ours or those with fairy godparents. This way, Timmy gets to spend all day with Chip and no wild fans asking for autographs."

Kcabs Rebme song finished playing and Chip Skylark's voice echoed through all stations. Timmy huffed, ignoring the background noise.

Wanda's eyes got wide again, but now the read had gone – as had much of the color from her face. "Uh, Cosmos, Chip is an adult."

"Yeah, so?"

"Listen to what's being played right now."

Cosmos did. His jaw dropped. "Oh my gosh! I have to fix this." He poofed away.

Timmy sat, not hearing the song where Chip Skylark declared his eternal love for Ember/Kcab, whoever she was..

A female screech broke through, cutting both the song and the procession holding all parents captive – Mr. And Mrs. Turner shook their heads, dazed and disoriented. "What are we doing outside in our pajamas?" asked Mom, noticing where they were before anyone else had recovered enough to put two thoughts together. "Timmy, what's wrong?"

She picked up her son and carried him inside, while Dad Turner followed, sputtering. The rest of the adults slowly wandered back to their families, deliberately forgetting their confusion as they resumed typical daily activities.

The radio, still attuned to the channel where Chip had almost wed Kcab (or Ember), had switched songs – to an older recording, one of Skylark's oldest records.

"This is Chet-u-Betcha, saying the marvelously, talented, Kcabs Rebme has sung her last song and wishes to apologize to all the instant fans who will miss her. Chip Skylark is back in first place, selling more albums than every before."

_Written Sunday 18 November 2012_


	15. Wulf is seen

Timmy Turner flopped down on his bed. "I'm bored" the ten year old complained.

"You could go visit the Crimson Chin," suggested Wanda.

"Boring," Timmy rolled his eyes, not looking at his favorite Comic Book here.

Wanda pouted.

"How about a round of 'Rock-em, Smash-em' Robots?" Cosmos piped up.

Timmy pretended to snooze.

Come on, Timmy! Robot fights are fun." Cosmos pleaded.

"Not when you parents took you to see 'Real Steel' eight times, Eight!" Timmy cried. "And besides, whenever I choose what you want to do, I get in trouble, or …" Timmy started listing all the bad things that had happened.

Wanda stopped pouting, did a little jib in mid-air. Cosmo's eyes got bigger and he started to tear up. "You just don't want to play with me anymore," he wailed.

"Oh, hush up, Cosmos." Wanda slapped him on the back of his head. The green luminescent eyes shrank back to normal size and the sniffling stopped. "He just doesn't want to need for us to rebuild that Smithsonian again."

"That wasn't us! That was some guy named Larry with an animation tablet – "

"GUYS!" Timmy yelled before his fairly odd parents could begin harping on each other's faults, perceived mistakes, and the thousand little details that didn't fit their image of an ideal spouse. "If you two are going to argue, I'm gonna head downstairs and watch 'Real Steel' – again." Timmy stomped to his bedroom door, into the hallway, slammed the wooden door, and stomped downstairs, grumbling the entire way.

"Was it something I said?" Cosmos asked.

Wanda shrugged. She didn't know either.

"You want to visit Pleasure world 44678?"

"Is that the ghost one?" Wanda asked shrilly. "You know ghosts and fairies don't like each other."

"No, the ghosts live on Treasure Planet 44678."

"Well, alright. What's on Pleasure world?"

Cosmos poofed them out with answering, and almost instantly poofed them back in.

Large shiny green metal claws ripped a hole in the air, and a hairy-wolf wearing a glowing neon prison uniform crawled out of the tunnel. Once fully inside the child's bedroom, a swipe of the his sharp claws closed the dimensional tunnel, separating a ghost arm from it's skeletal body.

The wolf phased through the door as he ran away from the creatures that chased him.

Wanda slapped Cosmos on the back of his head again. "A prison setting in the middle of a revolt is not my idea of paradise. Which world takes us to the Hawaiian-like destination?"

"337378," Cosmos replied. "Or was it 876743?"

"Ugh." Wanda started seeing read and it was only Mister and Mistress Tuner's screams of "Rabid Wolf!" that distracted her.

Wanda and Cosmos popped in to find the ghost wolf happily giving Timmy a ride on his back as he ran through the television, bounded over the sofa, in a large circle – the parents were in the middle of the room, screaming in fright.

Timmy laughed, "This is Fun! Faster boy, faster," he told his wolf/horse and they continued to follow the walls of the room, sometimes running on the walls, sometimes going upside down, but always along the outside edges.

_(Written June 2013)_


End file.
